


Stay Alive

by Sigurdjarlson



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, not so subtle Hamilton references, shameless mashing of game and movie lore, the deleted scenes in the novelization with Khadgar and Varian inspired this, this is pure pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigurdjarlson/pseuds/Sigurdjarlson
Summary: Khadgar and Varian have a little chat before they leave for the Broken Shore.





	Stay Alive

“Good evening, your majesty.” The grey haired wizard turned away from the balcony overlooking the grounds and bowed. Varian wasn’t surprised Khadgar had known it was him. He always did but then again what didn’t Khadgar know?

“I’ll have none of that.” Varian said gruffly, clapping him on the back when he reached him. “You know such formalities are not needed.”

“You are my king.” Khadgar said simply. 

“Yes but I am your friend first.” He felt a slight smile tug at his lips when Khadgar’s expression softened.

“What brings you here, Varian?” 

“I needed to clear my head.” He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily before continuing.”The Legion attacks in full force, Khadgar. My men prepare for war but..” He trailed off, placing his hands on the balcony edge and looking down at the harbor that was bustling with activity. Soldiers of every race readying themselves for a war he wasn’t entirely sure they could win. 

“It’s an all too familiar sight.” Varian finished and Khadgar inclined his head, staying silent as he allowed him to speak his mind. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever know peace.” He felt his voice waver slightly and he straightened up, squaring his shoulders. He would not falter now. He could not falter now.

“As do I.” Khadgar admitted and not for the first time he could see an immense sadness in the archmage’s eyes. It pained him to see one of his oldest friends suffering so.

If he could shoulder it for him he would. 

Yet, there was nothing he could do to ease his pain. He could not promise him a victory. He could not bring back the dead. There were far too many things he couldn’t do. 

A light touch on his hand made him look down. Khadgar had gently placed his hand on his, giving it a comforting squeeze. They stood like that a few moments before Khadgar withdrew his hand and he loosened his grip on the railing. He hadn’t realized just how tightly he’d been gripping it until that moment.

“And yet It’s not the first time we’ve been up against impossible odds, Varian.” Khadgar said suddenly, seeming to pull himself out of whatever dark place he’d begun to fall into. “There is still hope.” He said it with such ferocity he wondered which of them he was trying to convince. 

“We will win this.” Varian said and this time he had to wonder who’s worries he was trying to soothe. Khadgar’s or his own? “The Alliance has prevailed countless times. This time will be no different. I have faith in my people. We will cast these demons out of our world once more.” But how many more lives would be lost doing so? 

Years ago he’d been foolish and hot headed, he hadn’t understood the cost of war. Now, he did and the thought of the impending battle brought him no joy or excitement. How many men and women was he sending to their death?

“Azeroth will not fall quite so easily.” Khadgar agreed and the sadness in his eyes had been replaced with a fierce determination.

For a few moments they stood in silence, watching the men and women below them prepare for war. “You’ll lead the charge?” Khadgar said finally. 

“Of course. What kind of King would I be if I didn’t fight alongside my own men?” 

“Not much of one at all.” The pride in Khadgar’s voice made him feel as if he was a young boy again. A boy playing with toy soldiers in the throne room, cursing the orcs for taking his city and his father from him. 

“You’ve grown into a fine young man, Varian.” He let out a huff of embarrassment, averting his gaze. Still, he could feel Khadgar’s eyes on him but a flash of blue light in the air in front of them caught his attention. Where there had been nothing now stood a blue, shimmering lion cub made of pure arcane energy. It tumbled over its own paws as it chased after a wisp of arcane in front of it.

The sight brought a smile to his face. He could remember evenings spent pestering Khadgar. He’d always loved watching him practice magic. Khadgar had always been and would always be the most brilliant man he’d ever known. He had loved sitting beside him while he worked in the library, soaking up whatever knowledge Khadgar shared with him.

It didn’t hurt that he got to share some of the sweets Khadgar would conjure up for himself too.

Of course on occasion Khadgar would indulge him and show him something “really cool”. He’d always been entranced by these grand displays and this was something he admittedly had never grown out of. 

The shimmering lion seemed to run on thin air, bounding effortlessly after its prey. “I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were my own.” Khadgar said softly and the cub transformed in front of them into a full grown lion. The great beast stood proud in front of them. It looked so solid he was almost tempted to reach out and touch it.

Varian swallowed around the lump in his throat. He couldn’t find the words to convey just how much Khadgar’s words meant to him. He was grateful when Khadgar just nodded in acknowledgement of his silent turmoil. He didn’t need to say anything. Khadgar knew. 

“But I could never have fathered a man like you.” He looked up, confused by the self depreciating comment. When no explanation was offered he looked back at the lion. It’s eyes were on him.

It’s eyes were surprisingly intelligent for an illusion. 

It was a testament to how far Khadgar had come as well. He’d always been a great mage but now he was one of the most accomplished mages that had ever lived. Khadgar was proud of him but he was just as proud of Khadgar. He hoped the other man knew that. 

“Your father and your mother would be proud of you.” He swallowed hard, unable to meet Khadgar’s eyes. Would they? He had memories of his father but not many. His mother had lived much longer, passing not long after Anduin’s birth. 

Khadgar had been one of the people Taria called for during her last days. He could still remember Khadgar pleading with her to allow him to find a cure for what was ailing her. She refused, insisting that it was her time to go.

It was Khadgar who stood at his side during the funeral. He’d been a steady, comforting presence then and to this day he still was. 

“As would your uncle. Lothar.” Khadgar’s voice was heavy with grief that he knew all too well.

‘I miss them too.’

Those were the words left unsaid but he had no doubt they both knew they were there. He knew his uncle and Khadgar had been very close. Despite their constant bickering Varian knew they had cared deeply for each other. When Lothar was killed in battle, Khadgar and his fellow soldiers had named themselves The Sons of Lothar in honor of him. 

He too had honored the great lion of Azeroth in the only way he knew how, he named his son after him. He remembered thinking a name like that promised greatness and he hadn’t been disappointed. 

“I’m proud to have known them..and to have been borne into such a noble family.” He said, trying to keep his voice steady. “And I am proud to have grown up with a man like you there to guide me.” 

Khadgar smiled. “You have raised Anduin well.” 

“He will be a wonderful king someday.” He felt a swell of pride at the thought of his son. He couldn’t ask for a better heir. He couldn’t ask for a better son. “A far better king than I.” 

“You will go down in history as one of the best kings Azeroth has ever known, Varian.” Khadgar sounded so sure of himself he could almost believe him. “Anduin will be a great king but he will be a great king because he learned from you.” 

“I learned as much from him as he learned from me.” 

“I know.” The pride in Khadgar’s voice had not faded and he allowed it to soothe his worries and doubts for the time being. He wasn’t sure how long the silence stretched on but it was a comfortable silence. It always was with Khadgar. 

“I must be off. They need me in Dalaran.” He said suddenly, his eyes flashing blue as he received a message Varian could not see or hear. Despite his words he seemed strangely reluctant to leave. He saw him lift his hand to begin the spell but no magic appeared. He was hesitating. 

‘Then go. I must join my men at the docks as well. There is much to be done.” He gripped Khadgar’s hand in his own. “Farewell, my friend-” as he turned to leave Khadgar spoke again.

“Varian.” Khadgar gripped his shoulder with a surprising amount of strength, halting him in his tracks.

“Yes?” Taken aback by the intensity of his gaze he turned to face him fully, frowning.

“Stay alive.” His voice was steady but he almost seemed to be pleading with him. There was a desperation in his eyes that unnerved him. Did Khadgar know something he didn’t?

“I can’t promise that, my friend. You know that.” He had long ago accepted the inevitably of his own death. If he died then he would die with a sword in his hand. He would die fighting for his people, for his world. 

“Don’t worry about me.” Varian said as sternly as he could manage. “There’s no need. Your hair is grey enough.”

Khadgar offered him a small, sad smile. “Perhaps I like worrying. I’m very good at it.”

He gave the older man a gentle nudge. “Fight well, Khadgar. I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

“I’ll see you on the other side of the war.” His voice was so soft he almost couldn’t hear him.

It was with a heavy heart he turned to leave. He knew there was a chance that one or both of them wouldn’t be coming home. The mere thought of losing Khadgar made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. He’d lost so many loved ones to war, would he lose another one today? He forced the thought away and made his way back through the palace, pausing as he found himself in front of the throne.

He allowed himself a moment to gaze upon the throne. It seemed like hundreds of years ago that he had been a child. He could remember struggling to get up onto throne on his own. He’d been reluctant to ask for help but he didn’t need to. Many times without saying a word Khadgar or Lothar would lift him up onto the throne. 

He could remember doing the same for Anduin, lifting the young boy up onto the throne as he tried to explain what being a king entailed. He’d missed far too much of his son’s life but he loved him no less for it. 

His mother had once told him that there was no stronger love than the love a parent had for their child.

Perhaps that was what being a king meant. It was protecting your people with the ferocity of a father, caring for them with the dedication of a mother. It was doing whatever it took to keep them safe.

He took a deep breath and turned away from the throne, his eyes blazing with newfound determination.

“For Azeroth.”


End file.
